(I’m) so ready (for him) to talk

There we were, playing with toys in the living room: stacking, throwing, bopping. And then the cheerful baby just dissolved into tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and he looked at me helplessly and kept crying. “Are you hurt?” Crying. “Do you need a new dipe?” Crying. “Are you hungry?”

“Ha-HAAAAAAH!” he said with a big smile.

“Do you want me to make your supper?” I made the sign for “eat.” It was an hour early for supper. He lunged toward me, index finger out, and touched my mouth. And then he scarfed down half a peach, four ounces of yogurt, and scrambled egg (in bacon fat).

I say here and now for the whole internet to read that when this child starts using words, I’ll never, ever say I wish he would sometimes be quiet. Because it will be so useful.